Author's Note: This is something new I've been working on for quite some time now. Sorry if there are any typos, sentences that sound a bit off, or details left unfilled. This is just a draft so please not too much harsh criticism lol. But still…please let me know what you think about this idea! This is a continuation from my previous story so this is post Arkham Knight.

Gotham City

The Inner City

Thirteen Years Ago

City sounds.

Exhausted and overused horns blasting from passing by cars. Shouting and arguments by frustrated drivers who'd surprisingly not gotten used to the constant traffic that came with the city life. But it was understandable. The place was decrepit, hot.

Fumes produced by the factories in the industrial district left a thick imprint in the atmosphere, garbage that was promised to be taken care of months ago laid carelessly on the sidewalks. There were a few hobos slumped up against some of the many rundown buildings-begging passing by pedestrians for the few forgotten cents in the bottom of their wallets only to be ignored. Even the rats managed to do better. Feeding themselves with half eaten sandwiches and crappy pizza that went along with the excessive litter. Crackheads roamed the streets, the mentally ill wandered mindlessly in the concrete prison.

A young boy walked through it all. He was stoic, immune to the ungodly conditions produced by the city. His slick jet black hair stuck to the skin of his pale forehead. Sweat trickled from his brow to the tip of his nose.

He had his hands in his pockets, his head kept down. No eye contact. This was the inner city. If someone even thought he was looking at them the wrong way he'd risk getting jumped.

He was carrying a black bookbag slung over a shoulder. It looked out of place against his lithe, prepubescent figure. Many would figure he was a student headed for school. However no one figured it was a Saturday nor did anyone care enough to question.

"Yo…"

A familiar voice called out to him from the distance. Todd glanced ahead and saw what he expected.

He stood by their usual meeting spot. He was leaning against the decrepit brick wall of the nearby bodega.

Of course Jason's lips formed into a smirk upon seeing his closest friend. Throughout all the shit in his life, it was relieving to finally be able to see someone who he could at least call a friend.

The two approached each other, greeting one another with a quick dap and shoulder hug.

"Hey what's up, man?" His friend, Omar spoke. "You said you wanted to show me something…"

"Promise you won't freak out?" The teen spoke as he began to remove the straps from his shoulder.

"This better be good."

The thirteen year old opened the bag to reveal its contents.

After looking, his friend quickly looked up towards the street. His eyes darted both ways in a bout of paranoia before he quickly pushed him into the closest alleyway.

He practically threw the kid's back against a steel grate. Nearby rats scattered once they heard the abrupt commotion.

"The fuck did you get that from?" Omar spoke low and hostile.

"Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about where you gotta bag full of dope? Nigga, have you lost your mind?"

Omar stared at him for a moment. Jason's defiant blue eyes gazed right back, letting him know he was unapologetic. It was always that part of his personality that scared the fuck out of him.

"Jason…"

He eventually let out a breath in defeat. "I met some guy named Silas. Said he'd cut us three hundred if we delivered this weed across the city. Now I don't know about you but it's faster money than the scraps thrown at us to wipe windows or change tires every goddamn day."

"Did you just say Silas?" His already tenacious grip tightened. His brown eyes were riddled with panic.

"Yeah... So?"

"Shit." Omar let out a dramatic exhale as he let go of his companion by giving him a heavy push. He turned his back to him before placing a hand on his head out of frustration.

There was a temporary silence between the two before Jason decided to speak again.

"Yo, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"Do you understand what the fuck you got yourself into?!"

"Mrs. Bailey's rent is due by the end of this week," the twelve year old Todd tried to explain. "I can't just let her get evicted." He shook his head. "Not after everything she's done for me. For us."

"This is taking it too far."

"I'm willing to take that risk."

"I'm not talking about the weed." His friend retorted. "I'm talking about Silas. Silas works for some mothafucka named Snake Eyes."

"The man's a myth." Jason scoffed then zipped the bag up. "No record. No connections. Hell, no one's ever seen him before. It's all hearsay to make rivalries piss their pants before deciding to step into another unterritorized block."

"That's what he wants you to think." He said while tapping his temple with an index finger to convey his point. "The feds can't go after someone who doesn't exist. Who they've never seen. Believe it or not, this man controls every dime exchanged in this district. He sees everything that goes on here. Down to who's fucking who at night."

Jason squinted his eyes in a bout of incredulity. "You really believe that?"

"You can't hurt what you can't see, Jason. The prey never realizes until it's the predators time to bite."

"Look, you don't have to become a narrator for National Geographic to persuade me outta this one, Omar." Todd snarled. "There are bigger things in life I feared that I had no choice but to face. You're sadly mistaken if you thought I shit my pants."

"One of his goons crossed him." He ignored his statement. "Apparently he was working for another rival gang. Feeding them intel. His head was found on top of a trash bin the next morning. Shit, I even heard this nigga got a pound of dogs he feeds his victims to! Those dogs've never gone a night hungry."

"This is just one. Simple. Run."

"That can end up with someone dying."

"I'm running on limited time here, Omar. So it's either you're with me…" Jason stepped a few steps closer to his companion before speaking once more. "Or you're not."

Frederick gazed heaven bound for a moment as he ran a hand through his coarse hair. Todd could tell he was trying to find some way out of this.

"You're making this look too easy." He finally said

"That's because it is." He said. " You're clearly overthinking."

"Jason Todd, you're one reckless mothafucka."

"I promise." Jason said while giving him the most genuine, assured glare he could. "Just this one run and that's it."

Gotham City

Pompeii Nightclub

Present Day

It seemed as though Jason was meticulously scrutinizing the crowd below him. A sea of hands waving in the air, dancing, drinking, laughing, women twerking to the deafening music in clothes he knew their grandmothers would've beat their asses if they caught them wearing.

The scenery along with the flashing lights hypnotized him in some way. Maybe it was because he wanted to punish himself by facing what was real. Maybe it was just the shot of Hennessey.

He stood there with his elbows resting on the ledge as he silently spectated a carefree life he knew he could never live.

"He never let us out. Even after you left."

Omar finally spoke allowing Todd to come back to reality.

He turned his head to face his old friend. He too was observing the crowd. Colorful lights flashed against his stoic face as it created a contrast against his dark skin. His eyes were blank, joyless. He'd clearly seen too many nights like these.

"Mothafucka never gave us a choice." Omar continued. "At first we were just runners for the small shit: weed, pills, cigs...

Eventually Snake Eyes grew big in the business. Needed more manpower to handle the truckloads of narcotics coming in. Kilos on top of kilos of opiates, coke, meth. By then Pompeii was already in the woodworks."

They both watched as a server below deliver a bottle of champagne to a man in the crowd. He looked like a businessman who'd just come out of the office. Stands of his thick brown hair were out of place as though he were a mad scientist. The two could've made out his coke-induced dilated pupils from a mile away.

A group of tall, thin, model-like women surrounded his thick frame. They all cheered once he popped the bottle open. Streams of the bubbly fluid sprang from the opening.

"What were his intentions with this place?" Jason asked.

"Well it wasn't to launder dirty money;" he replied "He's already got those connections. A few 'investments' in small Carribean restaurants, weave shops ran by the Koreans, smurfing in various backup accounts. He wasn't going to put his eggs all in one basket. But he did need someone he could trust with enough history to do all the hard work."

"Distribution..." Jason finished the idea.

"Not any different from what you and I were doing twelve years ago." He said. "Just more on a massive scale."

"How massive are we talking?"

Omar took a sip of his bottled water. "Gotham City has five boroughs. So far, Snake's taken over Bleake Island."

"How'd he manage?"

"I don't know. I try to keep out of as much business as I can." Omar said. "But I do know that Batman's death was a catalyst for the increase in criminal activity throughout the city. People want to take over now that Batman's gone and the big guys are put away. Not many crime bosses-or vigilantes- to keep the little guys in line."

"This is a great window of opportunity for them to take the leftovers." Jason slightly nodded. "It's every man for themselves at this point."

"This is a great opportunity for bloodshed." Frederick snarled. "A war is coming, Jason. No one can stop it. Not Batman. Not Gordon. Not the GCPD. Not any of those motherfucking vigilantes like Nightwing or Red Hood."

The same businessman was now making out with one of the models. Clear saliva dripped from the corner of his mouth as he gave her a cringy, sloppy, slobberish kiss.

More white lines were set out at the table before them. The surrounding women gladly helped themselves to the strains of deadly nose candy. Apathetic to the fact that they were snorting lines of powdered torture, abuse, poverty, and murder.

"Niggas is gluttonous, selfish. This is a fool's game and I don't want part in this any longer."

"It's my fault," Todd said with every ounce of guilt he could feel. "I shouldn't 've-"

"You knew what you were doing, Jay." Pompeii's owner interrupted. "That's one thing I respected you for. You knew the streets better than any otha nigga I knew. You were wreckless as fuck. But you were strong. You had to be. That shit's what kept you alive. I didn't know it then. But I do now.

You don't know how many meals Devon and I were able to eat. Do you know how it feels to have your little brother go to bed with a fed stomach?"

"How is he? Devon." Jason fiddled with the empty shot glass in his hand. How old would he have been by now? Sixteen? Seventeen?

"He sees only what he needs to." He said nonchalantly. "He never really had to go through the struggles you and I experienced. I wouldn't want to put him through it either."

Jason fell silent once again.

He knew saying what he did came with a risk but he said it anyways.

"I wanna help you get out of the business with Snake Eyes."

Then came the anticipated pause. The silence that spoke the unspoken words that stood on shaky ground. Long overdue words that should've been exchanged years ago.

"Even if it means digging your hands back in old dirt?" Frederick finally questioned as he resumed his stoic stare in to the crowd as his childhood friend was doing before.

"It's our mess. And it's one that I started," Todd spoke before turning his head to give him the most genuine, assured glare he could. His deep blue eyes looked into his.

"I'll do whatever it takes."

**The title is called 'Free Lunch' because it is a song that I was listening to when I began writing this lol.

Song: Free Lunch-Isaiah Rashad